


Day 15: Watersports

by ImagineBeatles



Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [16]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, BUT LIGHT, Body Worship, Bottom John, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Frottage, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Magical Mystery Smut Month, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Top Paul, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: “You look so beautiful, John. Can you feel it yet?” Paul asked and John could only nod. Speaking would be too humiliating. It wasn't necessary anyway. John desperately needed to pee and they both knew it, whether John actually verbally admitted it or not.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Magical Mystery Smut Month [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811731
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Day 15: Watersports

**Author's Note:**

> Here's day 15 of my magical mystery smut month, which is now more of a magical mystery smut year, but that's only a small detail. I got many requests for this, so I hope those who wanted to see something like this will enjoy it! As well as everyone else of course <3
> 
> I don't have a specific setting in my mind for this, but '64 would make sense, I think. Anyway, enjoy ;)

For someone with such an angelic face, Paul could sure be cruel. It was funny to them both, thinking about how the press described him while they lay in bed together. The contrast could not be more stark. If only those people knew what kind of things they got up to together. Not that they would be any less shocked to see what role John played in their little games. The tough rebellious leader, as Paul would teasingly remind him, whispering it in his ear as John laid tied up beneath him, whimpering and completely at Paul’s mercy. 

“You look so pretty like this, John,” Paul muttered into his ear. “I wish you could see yourself.” 

John whimpered, desperately trying to squeeze his legs together but failing as the ropes around his ankles refused to give way. 

“So desperate…” 

Paul’s breath felt hot and wet against his ear as he spoke, unpleasant and uncomfortable in the best way and when he licked a wet stripe over the shell, John’s body shuddered in response. He felt hot under his collar, hyper-aware of the feeling of his clothes against his skin, rough and thick; the black turtleneck, his neat slacks, his socks, his underwear. At least Paul had let him take his jacket off, but it made little difference. His fully-clothed state made the whole situation worse. The growing pressure in his abdomen especially was difficult to ignore, and his dressed state just made it more present, more urgent. But also, to John’s embarrassment,  _ more exciting.  _

Paul’s hands were on him; not doing anything, but simply touching, caressing John’s sides, his arms, his chest, his stomach. Soft and gentle touches. They should have been soothing, but to John they were anything but. Now, Paul’s fingers were at his wrists, feeling at the ropes he had used to tie John’s hands to the bed, keeping him securely in place. He had pulled them tight, the harsh rope digging into John’s skin a little more than what would have been comfortable.

“Paul…” John tried, subconsciously shifting his body, which caused the plastic covering underneath him to squeak. John's cheeks grew pink at the sound. 

“It’s okay, Johnny. You’re doing well. Ready for another drink?”

John nodded and with some help from his lover, he managed to move into more of a sitting position, Paul’s arm supporting his back. Reaching beside him, Paul picked up the half-full glass of water that stood waiting on the bedside table and gently offered it to John, bringing the cool glass to his lips and slowly tilting it back, allowing him to drink. Paul’s eyes focused on John’s throat, watching his Adam's apple bob each time he swallowed. John finished the whole glass before Paul put it back. 

A drop of water trickled down from the side of John’s mouth and Paul leaned in to lick it off, pressing his tongue to the side, before moving his lips to kiss him properly. 

“You're being such a good boy, Johnny.”

It was a strange thing to experience, how Paul could be so gentle and sweet with him, all while knowing fully well what this was really about. What they were  _ really  _ going to do. What Paul was waiting for  _ John to do _ . 

John felt so loved, so cared for and safe in Paul’s hands, with Paul helping him drink, reassuring him constantly, his touches and his words so loving in that smooth charming voice of his, low and soothing. But he could also see the heat in the younger man’s eyes, arousal and desire burning together as he watched John closely, watched all of his little movements, his eyes never leaving him. 

He could feel the constant press of Paul’s erection against his thigh. He could hear the insistent, dominant tone in the man’s voice when he spoke. He could feel the way Paul’s hand lingered low on John’s stomach, right above his crotch, a light press that told too much. 

It was cruel, really. The way he eased John into the inevitable humiliation, coaxing him, guiding him, pushing him, gently, yet firmly. But John would give him anything he’d ask for. 

“You look so beautiful, John. Can you feel it yet?” Paul asked and John could only nod. Speaking would be too humiliating. It wasn't necessary anyway. John desperately needed to pee and they both knew it, whether John actually verbally admitted it or not.

Hours had passed since he had last used the bathroom. Paul had allowed him to go in the morning. Literally  _ allowed him  _ to as he sat at the breakfast table, still only half-dressed, drinking his tea. John had gotten up and muttered he needed to go, at which Paul’s eyes had drifted over John’s body, taking him in with a distinctive grin on his lips. He had nodded, giving John the permission he hadn’t asked for. 

John had been on edge for the rest of the day, a strange feeling of arousal and anxiety mixing together as his mind kept drifting to what would undoubtedly come once Paul had made his mind up and decided it was time. They hadn’t discussed it, or even verbally agreed that it would happen. They didn’t  _ need  _ to. It made it better when they just let it happen, the resulting anxiety feeding John’s arousal. John knew his safeword, and Paul knew John wouldn’t be afraid to use it if he needed to. It had left John semi-hard for the rest of the day. 

When the afternoon had come and John had felt that first inkling that he’d need to relieve himself soon, he had glanced at Paul and Paul had beckoned him over, pulling him into his lap as he pushed some foreign newspapers he had been reading aside. He had kissed him and placed his hand on John’s stomach, pushing down gently, at which John’s heart had leapt up, his blood flowing down to his crotch. When he hadn’t resisted, Paul had ordered him into the bedroom, where John had impatiently waited while Paul had gotten a couple bottles of water from the kitchen. 

No one was around. They were alone. They had all the time in the world. 

Just to be sure, Paul had locked the door and put up the “do not disturb” sign. 

John wasn't sure how Paul would explain their mess to the cleaners, but he knew his lover would come up with something. He always did. 

“How do you feel?” Paul asked, dragging John away from his thoughts, and John looked down to meet his eyes. He was still with him, watching him, his hand rubbing circles over John’s stomach. 

“Full,” was the only thing John could think of to reply, the word coming out in a kind of half-moan, and he grinned as Paul let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t give in yet,” he warned and John nodded, taking a moment to look at his boyfriend as said boyfriend pulled back to sit on his knees instead, his eyes still drifting eagerly over John’s body, laid out especially for him.

He picked up the glass again and refilled it using one of the bottles that stood on the floor beside the bed. John didn’t particularly want to drink any more. He had drunk too much already, but he knew he’d have to. Still, when Paul offered him the glass, he hesitated.

“Just a few more, love,” Paul said, his voice kind and gentle, and John groaned as Paul’s free hand moved down to rub at his crotch, once again coaxing him into agreeing. John couldn’t help inching his hips up into the touch, Paul’s fingers giving frustrating little pleasure as they teased him through the many layers of fabric. His brain went empty and John knew Paul was doing that on purpose. “Just a few more…”

John nodded, biting his lip as he tried rubbing off against Paul’s hand, giving his okay. Paul smiled broadly in reply, but instead of offering John the glass again, he moved, shifting his body and throwing a leg over John’s hips straddle him, planting himself directly onto his lover’s crotch. John groaned at the sudden weight that was dropped on top of him. He could feel Paul’s body pressing down on his already full bladder, and John moaned weakly as he had to fight to hold off and make sure nothing escaped prematurely. He just about managed, and he could tell Paul had noticed, the dark look in his eyes saying all John needed to know. 

But  _ fuck  _ he needed to go.

“Good lad,” Paul said, and John made a soft pathetic sound. 

Letting Paul guide his body back up, he drank what Paul gave him, pushing through his complaining body as water was poured into his mouth. Paul wasn’t as gentle with it this time and some it spilled, drizzling down John’s chin and throat and wetting his shirt. 

“You’re so messy, John,” Paul whispered, tutting as if he was dealing with an unruly child, as if it had actually been John’s fault he hadn’t been able to drink it all down properly. John’s cock throbbed against his lover’s backside in response. 

Paul poured him another glass and John drank it down obediently, looking Paul directly in the eye as he did so. He could feel the cold water travel down his throat and into his already full belly. If he were to get up now, John didn’t doubt he’d be able to feel it all slosh inside of him, the heaviness pressing down. He wasn't sure he'd even manage to reach the bathroom and the thought embarrassed him. Paul would never let him but if he did, John didn’t doubt it would all stream out of him before he’d even reach the bathroom door. Still, John knew it wasn’t enough. Paul wanted him  _ full.  _ He wanted him  _ desperate.  _ He wanted John balancing on the edge, only to push him further until he couldn’t hold it anymore. Until he could do nothing but let it go. He wanted John to  _ break _ . 

“More…” John said, voice weak, and he whined he felt Paul press down on his belly, right on his bladder. It hurt as John fought to keep it all in, the pressure only just short of being too much, but the smirk that formed on Paul’s lips in response made it all worth it. He feared Paul would press down a second time, perhaps even harder, just to see if John would manage to hold back, but instead Paul relieved some of the tension, rubbing his hands over John’s chest as he slid a little further down his body to sit on his thighs instead. 

“You’re doing really well, John,” he said, and before John could say anything in response, he picked up the water bottle again and poured him another glass. 

Once John had drunk all of it down, Paul put the glass down on the bedside table and when he leaned down to kiss him, John groaned against his lips. 

Paul’s hands found his belly again, and John whined, feeling just how much the pressure had built and was continuing to build, each drop adding to the now almost painful pressure in his lower abdomen. He squirmed under Paul, trying to fight the need to relieve himself, but it was getting increasingly more difficult. If John had felt full before, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling now. He knew it wouldn’t take much longer, especially with the amount he had just drank down, and he could tell Paul knew it too as the man's kisses grew harder, his hands continually squeezing at the swell of John’s belly.

John wasn’t sure how long they laid there, Paul on top of him, kissing him and caressing him, as the tension built and built. Paul’s hands were the worst, too busy for John’s liking as they caressed John’s stomach, squeezing and pressing and making John whimper as he could do nothing to stop it. 

He was getting more and more frustrated. He had his eyebrows furrowed constantly in concentration, needing all of his willpower and focus to keep himself from giving into the desire to just let go. 

When Paul moved to lie down on top of him, John’s body jerked in a panic. One of Paul's legs fell between his own, allowing Paul to grind their crotches together as he held onto John's shoulders and began kissing his neck, whispering praises, their bodies touching from head to toe. John gasped at the feeling, Paul's grinding, hard, slow and deliberate, adding to the pressure, mixing desperation with arousal and making it more and more difficult for John to focus and control himself. He wished Paul could stop. He wished he would ease off. He couldn’t hold it in otherwise, but Paul just kept going. 

“Paul…” John tried, cheeks burning in embarrassment, but Paul shushed him, rocking down harder into him as he peppered kisses all over John’s neck. His cock felt hard against John’s crotch, even through their clothes, and John didn’t know anymore if he should be moving into the touch or away from it. 

“I know…” Paul spoke, voice sweet, and rolled his hips down again, moving around in circles and making John gasp. A tear burned in his eye, and his legs shook, with arousal or desperation, John couldn’t even tell anymore. 

"I— I gotta—  _ fuck…"  _

“Not yet, baby,” Paul crooned. “You can hold back a little longer, can’t you?”

John whined, shaking his head, but Paul tutted, reaching out with his hand to stroke John’s hair. 

“You can do it, Johnny. Just a bit longer. You’re my good boy, after all, aren’t you? Good boys know how to hold it in when they need to.” 

John let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a whine at Paul’s words, but still nodded. Paul’s words went straight through him and down to his cock, making it throb, and he didn’t know how he would hold back, but he knew he’d manage. For Paul. Anything for Paul. 

“Such a good boy…” 

Paul, however, gave John little room to collect himself, as John had silently and naively hoped he might do, and one his hands travelled down to grasp at the little love-handle by John’s hip, gripping him firmly for extra leverage as he ground down harder. He dragged out his thrusts, going slower but more harshly and somehow that was worse. John had to squeeze his eyes close. He wanted so desperately to give in, to let go and let the tension ebb away. But Paul had told him not to. And John would be his good boy. 

John felt like he was about to burst. He was so full. But Paul hadn't told him he could go yet, and so he held back. He wasn't sure how he managed, but he held back. For Paul. He'd do anything for him. 

Still, he knew that would not last forever. 

"Paul…" he tried again, forcing his eyes open but again Paul shook his head. 

“No.” 

“P-Please… Paul... Please...” 

Paul kissed him again, hands tightening into John's shirt and pulling as he thrusted his hips down into John. His tongue slid over his bottom lip, and John immediately opened up, allowing Paul to lick into his mouth with a hungry groan. 

“Paul…” 

“Is it really that bad, love?” Paul asked and John nodded, fighting back actual tears now as he bit down his lip and tried to press his legs together again. 

_ "Sir…" _

Paul smirked at the word and kissed and nipped his way back over John's jaw to his ear, his teeth coming out to nibble at the little lobe before he sucked it into his mouth. John shuddered. 

"Say it, Johnny," Paul urged and John let out another involuntary whine as Paul gave another harsh thrust with his hips, causing the first tiniest drop to spill. 

“Fuck…” 

“Tell me how badly you need to go.”

"I— I  _ can’t..."  _

"Say it, Johnny," Paul repeated, tone more insistent now and John felt delirious as he tried to hold back. 

"It hurts… I've got to— got to—  _ please,  _ sir…" 

John whimpered in complaint as another small drop came out. He was truly on edge now and he knew it would only take one well-timed thrust or a simple squeeze and he’d be done with. Just one simple squeeze. Just one. 

“P-please… I- I need to go. I have to— I can’t—  _ Oh god…” _

"You gonna piss yourself for me?" Paul asked suddenly, voice hard, and John nodded with a whimper, grateful. He could feel a light wetness spreading through his underwear, not enough to be truly notable but John couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling. 

"Yes, sir… I can’t— can’t hold it in anymore. Need to pee so badly. Please, I— let me— I'm gonna wet myself. Please!" 

John's cheeks burned at the words, but Paul groaned and bit down John's shoulder at the admission, hips stuttering for a moment, before he nodded. 

"Do it," he said, quickening the pace with which he grinded his hips down. 

John didn't need to be told twice. It was as if Paul's words had torn away the last of his inhibitions. He had barely even finished speaking or it was already happening and John let out a deep low moan as a stream of piss erupted from his cock. 

"Fuck, yes. That's it, baby. Let it all out. It's okay." Paul said as he dropped his head to John’s shoulder, still soothing John as he continued his movements, his teeth digging down the older man’s flesh as he bit down. "God… That's it. Just let it happen."

John wasn't sure if he could have stopped even if he wanted to. The relief he felt overpowered his shame as he lay there, moaning in Paul's arms as he peed himself. He could feel it spreading through his boxers, warm and wet, soaking it through as a wet patch began to form on his trousers. He could feel it on his skin, piss running down his thighs, and he groaned at the extra friction it brought as Paul continued to grind against him. John knew it was getting Paul wet too. He knew Paul could feel it, the warm wetness spreading through his own trousers. It only made John harder. 

"God, you’re such a dirty boy," Paul murmured, still rutting, and John moaned at the words, trying to spread his legs wider as more pee flowed out of him. Some of it was even too much for both his and Paul's clothes and gathered in a small puddle at the sides of John's hips. He could hear it sloshing on the plastic below him with each of Paul's forceful thrusts. “Pissing yourself like that. It’s disgusting. What would people say if they knew you did this? Just because I asked you to...” 

John whined at the humiliation and he felt his cock jerk as the final drops flowed out of him, leaving him hard as he shuddered on the bed. 

The pleasure always came as a surprise. Once he was empty and the painful pressure had gone, pleasure was all that remained, and was all the more intense because of it. 

John moaned and groaned as Paul continued to rock their bodies together, the wetness of their clothes making the slide rougher, harsher, more intense. John's body, hypersensitive now, shook with it, his cock jerking as it pressed hard against his soiled trousers. Paul wasn’t doing much better, his movements uneven as his orgasm drew close. 

"Come for me, love," Paul murmured into John's ear, his voice a lot tighter and rougher, and John moaned in reply. His limbs jerked against the ropes, wishing he could reach out and touch Paul, wrap himself around him, around that warm body that always made him feel safe and protected. But the ropes made it impossible, keeping John on full display and not giving him any chance to hide. 

He was close. His cock was leaking, not with piss this time but with precum, and each of Paul's thrusts lowered his brain capacity until all he could do was moan and whine and bathe in the pleasure he was experiencing. He was saying stuff, could feel his lips move, but he had no clue what. He was too far gone. 

When Paul pushed a hand between their bodies to grasp at John through his wet trousers, he came with a gasp, soiling himself for the second time in less than five minutes, and Paul rewarded him with a kiss as he shuddered against him.

John wasn't sure if he perhaps lost consciousness for a second but the moment he opened his eyes, Paul had pulled back and was sitting knelt between John's legs. John groaned at the sight of his ruined trousers, embarrassment ripping through him. Paul, however, seemed to adore the sight and was sweetly rubbing circles into John's clothed thighs as he watched him.

Paul must have come too, the bulge that had been clearly visible in his trousers before, having vanished, and John groaned at the realisation, shame flashing through him. 

“Shh… it’s okay, John. You did so well. It’s okay. We’re gonna get you clean now,” Paul said, knowing how John got after they did this. He let one of his hands drift over John’s body as he began to undo John’s trousers with the other, unbuttoning them with one hand, before he began to take them off. John realised the robes around his wrists and ankles had gone and he laid his arm over his eyes, preferring to look away as Paul took care of him. 

He felt the coldness of the room hit his damp skin as his trousers and underwear were removed. Then the bed moved as Paul got up, only to return a few seconds later with a tub full of warm water and a towel. John opened his eyes as he heard the door fall close and felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest as the sight of his lover. 

“Alright?” Paul asked as he sat down on the bed, reaching into the tub with the towel to wet it before bringing it to John’s thighs, softly patting him clean with the towel. John swallowed, but nodded. 

“Was it too much?” he asked but John shook his head, his lips curling up into a weak smile at Paul’s concern. 

“Just need a moment,” he said, voice croaky, and this time it was Paul’s turn to nod. He dipped the towel back into the water and moved to clear John’s other leg, his movements soft and caring and John let himself relax into it. It felt nice, being taken care off like this, and slowly John felt himself coming back out of the darkness, his heart slowing to a more regular rhythm as he focused on Paul’s hands on his skin. 

“I’m lucky I have you,” he heard himself say, and Paul looked up in surprise. John flushed at his own words, but did not take them back, and eventually Paul’s expression softened, the corners of his lips curling up into a small smirk, and once he had finished cleaning John’s body, he moved up to kiss him, pouring into John’s lips what he couldn’t say out loud. 

“Let’s go take a shower,” he said, and John smiled, nodding as Paul began to help him up on his feet, knowing he had never been so cared for as by this one man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, chut, for reading this through for me, even though I told you you didn't need to <3
> 
> Also, the next prompt was going to be "sensation play", which I was planning on doing on tickling. Because I just wrote something involving tickling in the foot fetish fic, I'm gonna switch that one with a prompt I had planned for a later day. I will still do a sensation play fic, just a little later. That way I don't feel like I'm repeating myself too much.


End file.
